


Here Together

by wbss21



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Adjusting to life in a first world country, English as a second language, Homophobia, M/M, Russian Immigrants, Viktor is spelled with a "k"
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-14 03:13:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28913667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wbss21/pseuds/wbss21
Summary: It’s a couple weeks into his summer job as a stocker at his neighborhood general store that Yuuri meets Viktor.Viktor, he learns quickly, has gotten a job there too, loading and unloading produce and other stock in the alley located behind the shop.  His job is to carry the heavy crates back and forth from the truck to wherever they’re meant to go in the store, crack them open, and leave them to be emptied by Yuuri and stocked onto the shelves.He’s absolutely gorgeous.//Viktor has recently moved from Russia to America with his little brother, Yuri, in the hopes of finding a better life for the both of them.  At his new job, working as a stocker at a grocery store, he meets Yuuri Katsuki, and things are looking up.  But life isn't easy for a Russian immigrant who barely speaks English and who must bear the full responsibility of raising and caring for his younger sibling.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri & Yuri Plisetsky, Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Victor Nikiforov & Yuri Plisetsky, Yakov - Relationship
Comments: 61
Kudos: 139





	1. Chapter 1

It’s a couple weeks into his summer job as a stocker at his neighborhood general store that Yuuri meets Viktor.

Viktor, he learns quickly, has gotten a job there too, loading and unloading produce and other stock in the alley located behind the shop. His job is to carry the heavy crates back and forth from the truck to wherever they’re meant to go in the store, crack them open, and leave them to be emptied by Yuuri and stocked onto the shelves.

He’s absolutely gorgeous. 

He must be almost six feet tall, Yuuri thinks, with a physic which speaks to his having had the kind of back breaking work he’s currently employed doing before. And he has an unbelievably beautiful face, with skin as pale as fresh fallen snow, sharp and defined bone structure, intensely vivid blue eyes, and the most unusual shade of platinum blonde hair Yuuri’s ever seen. It’s so blonde, it’s basically silver, and cut stylishly, with bangs which continually seem to fall over one eye. 

Yuuri can’t stop staring at him.

Viktor is also from some other country, though Yuuri can’t really place which one, as he’s only heard him speak a few times so far, with a very thick accent and in broken English. He can’t be much older than Yuuri, if at all.

Mr. Deckerson, who owns the shop, hovers over him, watching his every move like a hawk, and Yuuri feels sorry for the new kid. Mr. Deckerson should give him a break, he thinks, considering this is his first day and he’s never seen anyone work as hard as Viktor currently is.

He must have moved over 30 crates by now without taking a break, working fast and efficient, picking up the empty ones Yuuri finishes unloading and taking them back outside before coming back in with more.

It’s as he’s carrying a particularly heavy looking crate towards the canned goods isle that the thing busts open in his arms, glass jars of pickles spilling out all over the floor with a loud crash, busting open as they hit the ground.

Yuuri straightens from where he’d been stocking packets of pasta, looking over to the commotion, and sees Viktor standing there, stock still, his beautiful face frozen in an expression of dismay, almost panic.

A moment later, Yuuri hears Mr. Deckerson explode into a rage, beginning to viciously ream his new employee, and Yuuri can only stand and stare in shock as Viktor stands helpless and overwhelmed.

“You idiot! Look what you’ve done! Look at the mess you’ve made!”

“I… I…” Viktor stammers, his voice coming out stilted and scared sounding.

“What?! What are you trying to even say?! You do speak English, don’t you!?”

“I… y-yes Sir, y-yes, I…”

“You know what, I don’t even want to hear it! You need to get this cleaned up. I’m paying you well above what you’re even worth, considering where you’re from. I hope you realize the cost of this inventory will be coming out of your first paycheck.”

“Y-yes Sir. I… I’m sorry… I’m sorry Sir.”

“I don’t want to hear it! If this mess isn’t completely cleared away by the time I come back to check on you, you’re gone. Get me? You’re fired!”

Viktor’s face goes noticeably paler at that, eyes widening.

“P-please… please, Sir, I… I need job. I have little brother at home. I… I am all he has, please Sir…”

“It’s ‘I need _this_ job’, for Christ’s sake! God damn Bolsheviks! Come into the country and can’t even speak the language properly. Just get this mess cleaned up. This floor better be spotless by the time I come back, got that!?”

“Y-yes Sir. Yes Sir. I do good job, I promise. I do very good job.”

“You better.”

Mr. Deckerson stalks off after that, and Yuuri is completely horrified.

He knew Mr. Deckerson could be a bit of a harsh boss, sometimes even unkind, but… well, Yuuri hadn’t ever thought of him as being bigoted or racist. After all, Yuuri had moved here to Detroit from Japan not all that long ago, and Mr. Deckerson had never seemed to hold any preconceived ideas about what type of worker Yuuri would be, or treated him badly because of where he was from. But the way he’d just spoken to the new boy… calling him a Bolshovik, screaming at him about “proper English”, telling him he was paying him more than he was worth because of where he was from.

It was sickening.

Yuuri can’t stand for more than a few seconds to watch Viktor as he gets down on his knees and begins picking at the broken glass with his bare hands. He forgets the packets of pasta he’d been stocking and walks over.

“Um, e-excuse me, Viktor?”

The other man looks up at him, and Yuuri’s breath catches in his throat.

Jeeze, up close he’s even more beautiful.

That thought is quickly replaced by concern though as he sees the almost frantic expression on the other man’s face. He looks on the verge of panic. Something Yuuri recognizes from his own, consistent bouts of anxiety.

“Can… can I help you? I’d like to help you clean up.” He starts, hesitant, unsure of how Viktor will react.

Viktor blinks up at him for long seconds, his eyes eventually skittering away, looking somewhere past Yuuri. Probably for Mr. Deckerson, if Yuuri was going to take a guess. He looks back to Yuuri then, that same, panicked look in his eyes.

“… I… I c-can’t lose job.” He stutters out. “Please, if I lose job, then my Yura wi-will have nothing. I can’t…”

Yuuri doesn’t need to hear anymore. He assumes this Yura person must be Viktor’s little brother that he mentioned so desperately to Mr. Deckerson, and he can feel his heart sink at the thought. He doesn’t know why it’s Viktor that has to provide, and not their parents. But he doesn’t think it would be appropriate to ask that. Not now, when they don’t even really know each other. Instead, he simply gets down on his hands and knees with the other man and starts helping to clean up the mess. 

For a moment, Viktor sits still, and Yuuri can feel his eyes on him, his gaze heavy. It’s hard to focus on what he’s doing, knowing he’s being watched so intensely. But then he hears Viktor’s stilted English again, his voice heartbreakingly grateful.

“Thank you. Thank you. Y-you help so much. Thank you.”

Yuuri glances up at him, smiling softly.

“It’s no trouble.” 

“You… you not get in trouble? You not get… what is word? Job not yours anymore?”

“You mean fired?” Yuuri asks, and Viktor nods, the look of worry on his face deepening. 

“Yes. Fired. That is word I mean.”

Yuuri shakes his head. 

“No, I’m alright. I just took this job to try and make a little extra money over the summer. There’s lots of jobs for kids my age, so I’m not too concerned. Besides, the way Mr. Deckerson talked to you was disgusting. I can’t believe he said those things.”

Viktor looks away from him then, continuing to gather up the broken glass.

“It not true, a-anyway. We are not c-communists. Me and my brother, we… we come to America because we believe in American dream. We not Bolshevik.”

“Well, even if you were, that’s no way to talk to another person. I’m Yuuri Katsuki, by the way.”

Yuuri holds out his hand.

Viktor smiles at him then, and wow, Yuuri didn’t think it was possible for this guy to get any more beautiful, but his entire face lights up, his lips forming into a heart shaped grin, teeth beautiful and straight, eyes bright. 

“I am Viktor Nikiforov! Your name is Yuri!? My brother’s name is Yuri too!”

“R-really?” Yuuri stammers, and he can’t help but notice how beautiful Viktor’s hands are either. He has these amazing, long fingers and palms. His skin is strangely cool, and, unsurprisingly, Yuuri thinks, his palms are rough. He looks like he should be a pianist or something, and Yuuri’s own hand gets swallowed up in Viktor’s hold. “I thought you called him Yura?”

Viktor nods.

“Da. Yura is a…oh, I know not the word for it in English. It is familiar name. Like… like…”

“Like a nickname?” Yuuri supplies, and he’s blessed once more with that gorgeous, heart shaped smile.

“Da! Like nick name!”

Yuuri smiles back. He wants to talk more, but he worries that Mr. Deckerson will come back around before they can finish cleaning up the mess, and he knows while he may not be too concerned about losing his job, for Viktor it seemed like a more serious affair. So he goes back to picking up the broken glass, and Viktor does the same, the two of them falling into a comfortable silence.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for all your lovely comments and support! I hope you continue to enjoy and please leave a review if you get the chance!
> 
> When a sentence is between <>, that means it's been spoken in Russian.

Yuri looks up from where he’s working on his math homework at the kitchen table when he hears the key in the front door lock.

A moment later, and Viktor is standing there, removing his coat and hanging it on the wall rack.

It’s just past six at night. Yuri knows, in a few hours, Viktor is going to have to head out to his second job as a janitor, cleaning some big ass office space all by himself.

It was fucked up. They didn’t have any money. Yuri had offered more than once to quit school and get a job so Viktor wouldn’t have to work so hard, but every time he brought it up, Viktor got all upset and would launch into some long winded lecture about how important it was that Yuri stayed in school and got an education, and blah, blah, blah.

He wouldn’t hear of Yuri quitting to get a job, no matter how exhausted and worn down he himself got. And just looking at his big brother, Yuri could see he was completely spent. His face is drawn and too thin, the bags heavy and black under his eyes.

His hands shake as he hangs his threadbare coat up on the hook, before turning, and Yuri hates the forced smile he plasters on.

“Hi!” He greets, mock cheer, and Yuri scowls.

<“You don’t have to pretend around me Vitya. How many times do I gotta tell you?”>

“English, Yura. You talk in English, yeah?”

“You _speak_ English, Vitya. Not talk.”

His brother smiles at him, coming over and pulling out a chair, practically collapsing into the seat. He looks even worse up close, the tremor in his hands more noticeable as he reaches out, taking hold of Yuri’s hand.

“Yeah, you speak English Yura! We are American’s now, yes? So we must speak our countries language!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Yuri pulls his hand out of Viktor’s hold, annoyed. He looks away, silent for a moment. “… You’re getting better, anyway.” He mutters after a while.

He doesn’t have to look back at his brother to know he’s beaming, with that big, stupid smile on his face.

“Yeah?!” He asks, and Yuri nods, frowning.

Viktor was good at languages. He was _smart_. But he talked about himself like he was stupid because he’d had to drop out of school when he was 10 to take care of Yuri, and because of that, he’d never received a proper education. Even with that, he’d managed to get a good enough grasp on the English language to be able to hold regular conversations in it in just the little more than three months since they’d come here to the States. He’d been practicing before that too, for about half a year before they were comfortably able to make the move. Yuri had helped him as much as he could, having taken English in school regularly for the last six years. He was fluent, both in speaking it and reading and writing. Viktor wasn’t so good yet at being able to read or write, but Yuri was helping him with that too.

“How was school today?” Viktor asks, pulling Yuri out of his thoughts. “Did you make friend yet?”

Yuri’s face twists into a scowl.

“ _No_.” He snaps. “Everyone there’s an asshole. I already told you!”

Viktor gets that sad look on his face again, and again Yuri almost snaps at him. He can’t stand it when his brother gets that sad look. It’s worse because Yuri knows he means it. He’s so fucking _earnest_ in how much he wants Yuri to do well and make friends, it’s fucking gross.

“But you should keep hope, Yura.” He says. “There is always person worth talking to, yes!? I met person today who is wonderful! Today at new job! You want to hear of him?”

That was right. Viktor had gotten a job at some grocery store, as a stocker or some shit. Yuri hated to think of his brother having to resort to manual labor like that, when he himself should have been in school, getting a degree or something. He hated that he had become a burden to Viktor, instead of helping to ease that burden.

He blinks, his brother’s words suddenly sinking in. 

“Who?” He asks, annoyed, already suspicious.

Viktor’s grin is huge and open, his eyes shining, and oh no, Yuri knows that look. 

His brother was also a disgustingly hopeless romantic. He fell for every cute guy he saw, it seemed like, only for him to inevitably get his heart crushed a few days, or weeks, or months later.

Viktor was just too damn nice, too much of an optimist, too open and honest, and it got him into all kinds of trouble all the time.

“Oh, his name is Yuri too! This is funny, no? He is so beautiful Yura! You should see! I invite him to have dinner with us, on the weekend.”

Yuri gapes at him, for a moment unsure what to say. His crazy, idiot brother invited some stranger over to have dinner with them? Was he nuts?! He didn’t even know the guy, and he was already inviting him to their home. Wait, did he say…?

“His name’s Yuri too? Is he Russian also?”

Viktor shakes his head, big, goofy grin on his face.

“No, he is Japanese! Cool, right?!”

Yuri tries not to outwardly cringe at what a fucking dork his brother is.

“What, you mean, like, _from_ Japan?”

“Yeah! But he says he lives here in United States for few years now. He speaks English as well as you, Yura!”

“And you invited him over here? For when?” Yuri presses, annoyed. It was just like Vitya to invite some total stranger to their shitty apartment. For all they knew, the guy was a psycho murderer! Viktor could be so naïve sometimes, it was almost unbelievable. Sometimes, Yuri thinks, it was also hard to believe Viktor was the older between them, he was so much like a child.

“Da! I mean, yes! Tomorrow, because it is weekend. He says he will come!”

“Pff, great. What if he’s some kinda killer Viktor? Huh? You’re a total wimp in a fight!”

The second the words leave his mouth, Yuri regrets them. Only more so when he sees the flash of naked hurt cross his brother’s face, before he forces it into a more upbeat, cheerful expression. The frozen mask he always wore when he was trying to hide from Yuri his true feelings.

“This is what I have you for, Yura!” He says, the same, forced tone in his voice. “You will protect, yes!?”

Yuri looks away, crossing his arms. He tries to ignore the burning guilt blooming in his chest.

Viktor didn’t have anyone outside of himself. He was always telling Yuri that he had to try and make friends at school, but as far as he knew, Viktor himself didn’t have any friends. There was Chris. But Chris lived in fucking Sweden, and they never got to see each other. And worse still, Viktor was fucking _gay_. A gay Russian man who spoke broken English living in America. The whole reason they’d fled Russia was because Viktor had faced so much daily harassment and ridicule. He wasn’t one of these gay men that was good at hiding it. He was sensitive, and sweet, and too pretty for his own good. Everyone fucking knew, and that had been the problem. Viktor hadn’t been able to hold down any kind of job for long, once his employers found out he was, as they called it, a faggot. They’d barely been getting by because of it.

That was bad enough on its own. But because of his lack of education, Viktor always had to take jobs which consisted of manual labor, which always attracted a rough crowd. Too often it would devolve into a dangerous situation for Viktor, and more than a few times he’d gotten smacked around by the other men on whatever crew he was working. Viktor would come home all beat up, crying his eyes out, and Yuri would have to try and take care of him.

They were all the other had, since both their parents had been killed in a car accident when they’d been younger. Yuri had only been four at the time, Viktor just nine. They hadn’t had any living relatives left in the motherland except their grandfather, Nikolai, who had been too old to work anymore, and so hadn’t been able to provide for them. So Viktor had had to start working, and he hadn’t been able to stop for the past nine years. 

Things had just become too difficult, first with him being so young and having no experience, limiting the work he could do, and then later with him constantly getting fired and bullied by the other workers. 

But Viktor had always had the idea of coming to America. It had been a dream of his since he was little, and as soon as he’d started working, he’d also started saving. And finally, three months ago now, they’d saved enough to make the move.

They had an uncle, Yakov, who lived in America with his wife Lilia. He coached world class figure skaters, and when he’d still lived in Russia, he’d been a coach for Viktor. That was before their parents had died, and Viktor had shown incredible potential as a skater. He’d been a prodigy. But he’d had to let that dream go. Just another casualty of their parents death. 

The two of them had discussed going to live with Yakov and his wife, but they also knew what an imposition that would end up being for their uncle. That, and he was in New York, and with as little as they had, both of them had known they wouldn’t be able to make it in that city. So they’d come here, to Detroit, and Viktor had found a job fast enough, working as a janitor, while getting Yuri enrolled in the nearest public school. 

Yuri hadn’t told Viktor about the kids at school that bullied him for his thick accent and light coloring. He wasn’t going to either. Viktor would try and intervene in some way, Yuri knew, and he already had enough shit to worry about. Besides, Yuri could take care of himself. 

They lived in a one bedroom, 800 square foot apartment in the poor section of town. It was pretty shitty, but compared to where they’d been living back in Russia, it wasn’t so bad. At least they had their own bathroom here, even if the shower stall was too small for Viktor. He had to practically sit on the floor to use it, since the shower head was so low. And the pipes were unreliable. Half the time they couldn’t get the water past lukewarm, and the other half it was either freezing cold or scalding hot.  
Detroit was weird as hell around here. There weren’t any people. Yuri heard it was because all of the car plants had shut down, unable to compete with the productivity of the Japanese car companies, and so everyone had been forced to move away. Him and Viktor were fine on their own here though, even if their apartment was hardly big enough for the two of them. As long as they had each other, they were fine.

Viktor had been bringing home about $250 a week from his cleaning job. But their landlord had increased the rent on their place from $600 a month to $750, which had left them with only about $250 to pay for everything else. It wasn’t enough, and Viktor had been forced to get a second job, which was the one he had just started today, at that grocery store. 

It was fucked up, and Yuri hated seeing Viktor having to work so hard, with no time for himself, and no time to relax. Viktor acted like everything was fine. Like he didn’t mind it. But Yuri could see the stress on his face every week when he was going through their bills, trying to figure out how to budget everything.

Last week, they’d been out shopping for food, and Yuri had made the dumb fucking mistake of asking if he could have this fancy looking candy bar for a treat. Viktor had gotten this awful, guilty look on his face, and asked Yuri how much it was. And then, before Yuri could answer, Viktor had told him never mind, and taken the candy bar and put it in their basket. Then, when they’d gotten to the checkout line, the total had run up over what they had. They couldn’t afford it, and Yuri had tried to take the candy bar back out and tell his brother to forget it, but Viktor had insisted. He’d stood there for five solid minutes, trying to figure out what else they could put back instead of the candy, and the girl working the register didn’t even try to hide her annoyance, sighing and rolling her eyes. The people in line behind them had started grumbling too, talking loudly enough for both him and Viktor to hear, making insulting comments about the “stupid foreigners”. Yuri had wanted so badly to tell all of them to shut the fuck up, and he’d been close to doing it too, but Viktor would have been upset with him for being so rude. So he’d kept his mouth shut, until finally Viktor had been forced to admit they couldn’t keep the candy, and Yuri had run it back to where he’d found it in the first place.

Viktor had broken down in fucking tears when they’d gotten home later, apologizing over and over to Yuri, like he’d done something horrible to him, and Yuri had tried to tell him it was alright, that he didn’t care about the stupid candy bar. But Viktor had been almost inconsolable, and started talking about what a failure he was, how Yuri deserved better than what he could give him. It was fucking awful.

Viktor was too damn nice, and he tried so fucking hard to give Yuri nice things all the time, even though they were barely scraping by every month. He knew Viktor was stressing out about Yuri’s upcoming birthday next month too. He wanted to get him something nice, even though Yuri had told him over and over he didn’t need anything. Back in Russia, Viktor would make Yuri presents for his birthday. Viktor was talented with a knife and knew how to whittle little figures out of wood. He would carve Yuri animals and people or whatever he wanted, or he would spend hours crafting him paper machete costumes and hats. One year he made Yuri a paper machete volcano, and because he knew how much Yuri liked cats, he made him cat ears and a tail out of a bunch of scrap material they had lying around. 

But when they’d come to America, they’d noticed how it seemed like all the kids here had smart phones and smart devices. Even at Yuri’s school, which consisted of kids from mostly lower class homes, almost everyone had some kind of Android or I-Phone or whatever, and wore all kinds of expensive shoes and clothes, like Nike. Viktor had started feeling insecure about Yuri not having those things too, and he’s started promising Yuri he would find a way to get him a smart phone, at least. Yuri told him no way, he didn’t need that crap, but Viktor was fixated on it now. Viktor had no idea how expensive those things actually were, but Yuri did. There was no way in hell they were ever going to be able to afford one.

“Yuri? If… if you not want this man to come, I will tell him no. Yes? I will make excuse. I do not mean to make trouble. It is only… he is very kind to me. Today. I mess up at job and almost get fired, and this man help me. You know? He help me to keep job, so I can take care of you. I want to show kindness back.”

Viktor is looking at him now with an expression full of hope and desperation, and Yuri suddenly feels like the world’s biggest asshole.

His brother came home today all excited about some guy he met working at his new job, and Yuri just had to go and shit all over it for no reason at all.

He sighs, slumping down in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest.

“No, it’s fine. He can come over. I was just being an asshole.”

Viktor’s face lights up like a sunbeam, and Yuri has to look away, the guilt choking his throat.

“Really?! You not mad he come over?!”

Yuri shakes his head, keeping his gaze fixed on the wall. The wallpaper was peeling. Shit looked like it was from the 70s or something.

“No, I’m not mad. It’s fine Vitya. If you say he’s nice, I’m sure he is.”

Yuri actually isn’t sure of that at all. Viktor thought everyone was nice, until they showed him that they weren’t. 

Viktor claps his hands together like a little kid, holding them against his chest. His mouth splits into a toothy grin, eyes bright.

“Yuri! Thank you! You will not regret, I promise! He is very kind man! You will like!”

“Alright, alright.” Yuri waves him off, frustrated and angry at himself. Viktor only made it worse for how genuinely happy such a small thing made him.

“We will get ready. Yes? We go to store and buy things to make good dinner.”

Yuri looks back at him finally.

“But don’t you have to go to work soon?”

“Da! But there is time. Come, we go now and be fast! Tomorrow we make good food!”

Yuri sighs again, rolling his eyes and pushing himself up to his feet.

Whoever this guy was, he better be as nice as Viktor said he was. Because if he wasn’t, if he hurt Viktor is any way, Yuri was going to make the bastard wish he’d never been born.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm putting this note here, and I want everyone who's been harassing me about my stories over on fanfiction.net to take heed of it. I won't answer your questions, especially when yo leave comments under the guise of reviewing my current stories, only for your true intentions to be revealed in bothering me again and again about works that I no longer have up. Here's your answer. I'm not going to be posting those stories again. I've deleted them from my hard drive because I no longer care to participate in the fandoms those stories belonged to. So stop asking. If you ask, I will delete your comments and report you for continued harassment. I took them down for a reason, and I'm not obligated to reveal those reasons to anyone.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All my thanks one again to all my readers! Remember, anything between these brackets {} is meant to be spoken in Russian.

Yuuri is barely through the front door to their apartment before Phichit jumps on him.

“Alright, spill it!” He practically yells, nearly crowding Yuuri against the door in his enthusiasm. 

Yuuri ignores him, focusing on unzipping his jacket and hanging it on the rack in the entryway. 

“Yuuuuriii, come onnnnnn…” Phichit whines, and Yuuri rolls his eyes.

“You could at least give me a chance get through the door before accosting me Peach.” He finally answers.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re through the door. You’re in the apartment. That should be more than enough for you to be ready. And stop trying to change the subject! Tell me about hiiiiiimmm.”

Right. _Him_.

Yuuri knew he shouldn’t have told his best friend about Viktor over text message. He knew Phichit would probably flip his shit, his obsessive interest only building over the course of the day as Yuuri wouldn’t have time to go into detail. But Yuuri had been so excited after really getting to talk to the new man at work, after spending their lunch break together, he hadn’t been able to help it. He’d had to tell somebody, and there was really only one person he _could_ tell.

Phichit must have sent him a hundred text messages back over the next, few hours, all of which Yuuri had ignored.

Well, now he was in it, and he only had himself to blame.

“Alright, alright, just give me a minute to use the bathroom, and then I’ll tell you.” He promises his hyperactive roommate. 

He thinks he might’ve lost some hearing from the booming yelp of joy Phichit emits at that, and he can only sigh in response, shaking his head.

He can’t exactly blame Phichit for being excited, though. Not when Yuuri himself felt like he’d been floating on cloud 9 since that afternoon.

He’d known Viktor only a few hours, but, beyond the obvious physical attraction he felt toward the man, he’d been taken by just how kind and sweet he’d been. He was just so nice. His accent and tenuous English made him hard to understand at times, but you couldn’t miss his seemingly boundless good-natured personality. He smiled constantly, eyes bright and gleaming with genuine interest at everything Yuuri had said to him. He didn’t let his limited grasp of English stop him from asking about a thousand different questions either. Yuuri really couldn’t remember the last time a man, or anyone, really, had shown so much interest in him. If he was being honest, Yuuri had to admit it had felt nice, someone wanting to know so much about him. The attention. Of course, because Viktor had been such a whirlwind of questions, Yuuri really hadn’t gotten to ask many of his own, and he was realizing just how little he actually knew about the Russian man, other than the fact he had a younger brother who, oddly enough, shared the same name as him, and that he and Viktor lived alone together. Yuuri had to admit to himself that he was curious, and a little uneasy, about what the reasons could be behind Viktor being the sole caretaker to his younger brother. They must have had parents.

In truth, Yuuri knew it probably wasn’t the brightest idea to just flatly accept an invitation to someone’s home who he barely knew, but Yuuri had always thought of himself as a pretty decent judge of character, and he didn’t think there was much to worry about with Viktor. Still, he’d asked if he could bring Phichit along, just in case, which Viktor had had no problem with it.

Speaking of, Yuuri barely gets two steps out of the bathroom before his roommate is on him again, asking a thousand and one questions.

“ _Please_ tell me you took a picture! I’ve gotta see this guy!”

“Alright, alright, hold on.” Yuuri laughs, trying to edge around his friend and make his way to the couch. His back was starting to really ache from all the squatting and lifting he’d been doing the last eight hours. 

It makes him think about how much worse Viktor must be feeling, considering he was the one carrying all of those full crates back and forth over and over for just as much time.

Then again, maybe the Russian man was used to it.

“So, did you take a picture of the dream man or what? Yuuri, you GOTTA tell me!” Phichit flops down onto the cushions beside him. Yuuri smirks at him.

“As a matter of fact…”

He pulls out his phone and Phichit squeals so loudly, Yuuri swears he hears ringing in his ears. 

He really shouldn’t have, he thinks, as he pulls up his gallery and finds the photo he’d snuck of Viktor easily enough. He’d taken it during their lunch break, snapping the photo when Viktor had been distracted trying to piece his turkey sandwich back together after it had fallen apart. The shuttering noise had drawn the Russian man’s attention back to him, and Yuuri had started to apologize, saying he would delete it if Viktor wanted him to, but Viktor hadn’t even seemed to have heard him, instead his eyes going huge with naked wonder.

“ _Is… is it one of these special phones?”_ He’d asked, hands halfway reaching towards the device in Yuuri’s grasp, before falling away. _“What do you say? Ro-Robot phone? Or… or eye… uhh… ohhh, I forget words. My brother Yuri, he would very much want one. His birthday comes soon, yes? C-can I see? Can I see phone_?”

Yuuri had handed him the phone without question, and it had become clear after just a few seconds that Viktor had never really used a smart phone before, or even held one, from the way he didn’t seem to know how to work it at all. Which had been… well, surprising. Yuuri didn’t think he knew anyone who didn’t know how to use a smart phone, or hadn’t ever seemed to have one even.

He gets the picture up on the screen and turns the phone toward Phichit, watching as his friend’s eyes go comically wide.

A moment later, and he’s letting loose a booming gasp, his hands flying up to his mouth in apparent shock.

“Oh my God… Oh my GOD, Yuuri!” He cries, his hands reaching out and taking the phone from him.

Yuuri can’t help laughing as Phichit turns away from him, crowding the phone’s screen close to his face as if that’ll give him a better look at the man on it.

“He… he’s gorgeous. Oh my God, you weren’t kidding! He’s insanely gorgeous!”

“I know, right?” Yuuri starts, rubbing the back of his head, feeling a little embarrassed. 

“How old is he? He doesn’t look like he can older than 20.” 

“I, uh… actually don’t know?” Yuuri admits. “I didn’t actually get to ask him many questions. He kept asking about me so much that I didn’t really get a chance. The only thing I really know is that he’s from Russia and he has a younger brother who’s also named Yuuri, which is really weird.”

“Really?” Phichit finally looks up at him. “That is weird. Wait, so, you didn’t get to ask him anything else? Didn’t you spend most of the day with him?”

“Well, our lunch break. He doesn’t speak English very well either, so it was a little difficult talking to him sometimes. He seems to understand English pretty good, but he has trouble making himself understood sometimes.”

“Hmmm, that’s gotta be tough.” Phichit mutters thoughtfully, turning his eyes back to the picture.

“Yeah…”

“Is he gay?”

Yuuri can feel his eyes go big with embarrassment, his face heating.

“Jeeze, Peach, just straight to the heart of things with you, isn’t it?”

Phichit laughs, looking back at him.

“Well, I mean, there’s no point if he isn’t! Unless he’s bi? He’s gotta be gay. He’s too beautiful to be anything else!”

Yuuri blows air out through his lips. Sometimes Phichit’s directness was hard to handle.

“I don’t know. I didn’t get to ask him about that either.” He says, failing to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. “I mean… I got the sense though. That he’s gay.”

“Really?!”

“Yeah, and don’t sound so excited about it. It’s just the way he was. He’s really sweet and gentle, so…”

“You’ve never been wrong Yuuri. You have, like, the best gaydar I’ve ever seen.”

Yuuri rolls his eyes.

“Dude, can you not. I could be wrong.”

“You’re never wrong. Oh my God, you have to invite me to your wedding!”

“Peach! Jesus, I just met the guy this afternoon!”

“And? True love doesn’t have an incubation period Yuuri!”

“Oh my God…”

“I wonder if his little brother is as cute as he is…” Phichit starts to mumble.

“Peach, no. His brother’s like 13 or something.”

“Oh… Oh, okay, gross. Never mind.”

Yuuri sighs.

“Listen, he… he invited me to come have dinner at his place tomorrow and…”

Again, Phichit lets out an ear piercing squeal, and Yuuri grinds his teeth.

“And I was GOING to ask if maybe you wanted to come along, because…”

“Yes!”

“Peach, would you let me finish?”

“Oh… yeah. Sorry.”

“Because I don’t actually know the guy very well, and I need you there in case he turns out to be a psycho serial killer or something.”

Yuuri can’t help but smirk at the very notion.

If Viktor was a serial killer, then he was the Queen of England. But you never knew, either.

“Yes! What time? Oh man, I’m gonna have to find something to wear, aren’t I? Ah, jeeze, Yuuri, you coulda’ given a guy more warning.”

“He told me 5:00. So I figure if we show up around 4:45, we should be good.”

“Where does he live?”

“Well, that’s the thing. He lives in kinda’ a crummy part of town. So, actually, I want you with me more in case we get mugged or something. I don’t actually think Viktor is dangerous, but the neighborhood he lives in kinda’ is.”

“Oh, okay. I mean… how dangerous?”

Yuuri shrugs.

“I don’t know. I don’t think either of us has ever been there. But, I mean, more dangerous than the college campus.”

“Well… okay, your mystery Russian man is hot enough to risk our lives over, I’ll admit. So count me in!”

Yuuri grins at him, reaching out a punching his shoulder.

“I knew I could count on you Peach!”

//

“Oh, Yura… you chop onions! Yes? I do it myself, but… the soup… it needs close watch.”

Viktor looks over at his younger brother, smiling wide at him, his heart swelling with fondness at the way the boy rolls his eyes, muttering under his breath. He complains, but still he gets up from where he’d been doing his homework at the kitchen table and moves to the small counter space, where Viktor had laid out an assortment of vegetables which needed to be chopped for the soup he was making.

He had a pot roast cooking in their little convection oven, and was busy now stirring the mashed potatoes. 

He keeps checking the clock on the wall obsessively. 

Yuuri and his friend would be here soon.

Viktor feels almost sick with excitement. 

He’d noticed the other boy almost immediately when he’d started his new job yesterday. How could he not? He doesn’t think he’s ever seen another person as beautiful as Yuuri Katsuki, with his jet black hair and large, golden brown eyes. Just thinking about him makes Viktor feel like he’s got butterflies in his stomach, his mouth pulling up at the corners. 

Yesterday, when he’d stupidly let the bottom of that crate fall out, and all those jars had shattered against the floor, Viktor had thought for sure the store owner was going to fire him, and the possibility alone had nearly sent him into a panic. There just weren’t that many job openings around this city, and Viktor was so woefully underqualified for almost everything anyway. It didn’t help that his English was so terrible, and that he and his brother were here on a visa, not yet technically citizens. He’d barely been able to land any job interviews, and the ones he had, the people conducting the interviews had looked at him with open suspicion and impatience. He was lucky to have landed the stocker job he did, even if he’d had to agree to Mr. Deckerson’s wage of $6.50 an hour. Viktor wasn’t stupid, he knew that was well below the minimum. Only he didn’t have a choice but to accept it. He also had known, if he managed to get fired his first day there, then there was a real danger of him and Yuri being thrown out on the street, and Viktor couldn’t, he _couldn’t_ let that happen. He would never forgive himself if he let that happen to Yuri.

They were barely scraping by every month as it was. And his brother deserved so much more.

Viktor thinks, if Yuuri Katsuki hadn’t shown up like an angel and offered to help him clean the mess he’d made, he probably would have lost his job, and then he wouldn’t have been able to provide for Yuri, and that would have been the worst thing in the world.

He’d tried conveying his gratitude to Yuuri, yesterday, but his limited English had kept him from being able to do so, he thinks. 

He hopes tonight would go further in making the other boy understand how much his help had meant.

He also hopes that maybe it could lead to more. Yuuri had been so kind, so sweet to him, and Viktor very much wishes to spend more time with him, get to know him more. 

He thinks also, maybe, if he’s able to make a friend himself, it might encourage Yuri to try harder at school too. He knows Yuri could be popular, if only he put himself out there a little more. His brother was so smart, and so talented, and such a good person too, and other people would see that, Viktor was sure, if he just allowed them to. 

“{Here, I chopped the carrots too}.” Yuri is at his side suddenly, holding two separate dishes with the chopped vegetables. “{Anything else you want?}”

“{Yura! Thank you! If you’re feeling up to it, you can start to set out the dishes? Only if you aren’t too busy with your schoolwork, though.}”

“{I can do it.}”

Viktor smiles at him, reaching out and ruffling his brother’s hair.

Yuri splutters, ducking out from under his hand, and Viktor laughs.

“{Also, Yura, I know it’s easier for us to speak Russian, but when our guests arrive, we’ll speak English, alright? It would be rude of us to talk in front of them in a language they don’t know.}”

Yuri grumbles under his breath something that Viktor doesn’t quite catch, but agrees nonetheless, and Viktor again smiles at him.

“{Thank you Yura. I mean it. You’re the best brother ever!}”

“{Yeah, yeah, whatever. I’ll set the table.}”

“{Thanks Yura.}”

Viktor turns back to the stove, dumping the chopped veggies into the soup and beginning to stir them in.

He tries to calm his fluttering nerves.

He just hopes everything goes well tonight.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All my thanks once again!

They end up taking the bus, and from there, it’s relatively easy finding Viktor’s apartment, though he and Phichit stick close to one another, because the neighborhood is, indeed, not very friendly looking. They don’t get mugged though, which is a good start. The weirdest part about it is that there don’t seem to be any people out on the streets.

When they reach the building finally, they end up having to climb about three flights of stairs to get up to the right floor, because the elevator is out, and by the time they reach their destination, the both of them are out of breath.

From there it’s just a short walk down a dimly lit hallway with peeling wallpaper and bare wood floors which are obviously rotting out, and they find the right door quickly, second from the last. Number 24A.

Yuuri knocks, trying to push down the nervousness suddenly floating in his gut, and hears the muffled sound of what he thinks is Viktor’s voice calling out that he’s coming.

Sure enough, the door swings open, and Viktor is standing there with that giant, heart shaped smile splitting his face. Immediately he pulls Yuuri into a hug, and then he does the same to Phichit. Admittedly, it’s a little weird, but Phichit laughs like he thinks it’s delightful, and really, Yuuri isn’t going to complain. He’d noticed back at the store that Viktor was a little… tactile.

“Yuuuuri!” Viktor nearly shouts, dragging out the vowels in that funny way he does. “And you are Phich… er… for-forgive, I know not how to say… uh…”

“Phichit.” Phichit grins back. “It’s okay. Everyone has trouble with it at first.”

Viktor’s smile grows bigger still, his eyes sparkling.

“Okay! Please, come in!” 

Viktor steps aside, extending his arm.

Yuuri smiles at him as he walks past, and Viktor smiles back. 

God, he really is so beautiful, Yuuri thinks.

Phichit catches up and leans in close to him.

“Dude, holy shit, he’s _gorgeous_!” He whispers in his ear, and Yuuri swats at his arm, face burning.

“Peach, he’ll hear you.” He hisses quietly back, but Phichit only grins back at him.

God, this was going to turn into a long evening if his psycho roommate couldn’t control himself. Maybe bringing him hadn’t been the best idea after all.

“Please… uh… sit… Dinner soon, okay?!”

Viktor gestures over towards a dining table, situated halfway between the living room and the kitchen. Moving around it, setting silverware and plates, is a young boy of maybe 13 or 14 years old, if Yuuri had to guess. He’s small and whip thin, with hair the color of the sun and piercing, green eyes. He can only be Viktor’s younger brother.

As if reading his thoughts, Viktor confirms just that a moment later.

“This is my brother, Yuri! Oh… Yuri, come… say hello to guests!”

The young boy rolls his eyes, huffing, before he comes stomping over, his entire body screaming teenage angst, and Yuuri can’t help smiling a little. 

“So, which one of you is him?” The boy snips, his eyes scanning over Yuuri and Phichit both with open skepticism. 

Yuuri blinks, taken aback by the almost hostile attitude. He glances at Phichit, and Phichit glances back, shrugging.

The boy, Yuri, sighs loudly, again rolling his eyes.

“The one my idiot brother won’t shut up about.” He clarifies.

“Yuri! Do not behave rude… please… I ask you before…” Viktor pleads, sounding almost desperate, his face open with sudden worry.

That seems to soften his brother somewhat, the rigid set of the boys shoulders relaxing, and he mutters out an apology.

“Sorry.”

Viktor’s face immediately brightens.

“Yuri, this is Yuuri… uhhh… hmmm… it is… what is word… uhh… weird? You have same name…”

“Ohh, I know… how about we call you Yurio, so it won’t be confusing!?” Phichit points at the boy, grinning, and oh boy, Yuuri knows that look.

It garners the expected reaction, of course, the boy’s expression morphing immediately into indignant rage.

“What!?”

“Yurio! Great!” Viktor claps his hands together, eyes bright.

The younger boy sputters again, eyes cutting sharp at his brother.

“You will NOT call me Yurio, Vitya! I swear to God, if you do…”

Viktor throws his hands up, laughing, which only seems to enrage Yurio more.

The boy’s own accent is thick too, Yuuri notices, but already it’s clear he speaks near perfect English, which Yuuri thinks is interesting, if a little strange, since Viktor himself clearly doesn’t.

As Viktor and his brother continue to bicker, Yuuri looks around at the rest of the apartment, and the first thing he really notices is that it’s _small_. Smaller than the dorm room he and Phichit share, which is insane, he thinks. It doesn’t look like more than one, larger space with, as far as Yuuri can tell, only two other rooms, one of which must be the bathroom, and another, he assumes, a bedroom.

It’s small, but it’s well maintained, clean and tidy, with used looking, but relatively nice furniture, a couch and a coffee table and some chairs. There’s the dining table, with what looks like a mish mash of different types of chairs arranged around it. One of them is a metal folding chair, which looks horribly uncomfortable, and another that’s just a plain, wooded one. The other two at least have cushioning. There isn’t a TV anywhere he can see, he notices, which is also pretty strange. Though if they were struggling financially, which, the fact they lived all the way out here made that seem likely, he guesses it isn’t so weird after all.

Suddenly Yuuri feels oddly guilty. He never really thought too much about all the little things he took for granted, like his and Phichit’s TV, or their computers and iPhones. 

He hopes, abruptly, that Viktor didn’t spend too much on food for them, and thinks maybe he should have invited Viktor and his brother over to their place for dinner instead. He feels bad for thinking it almost instantly, shaking his head.

He was making all kinds of stupid assumptions about these people based on nothing more than a cursory look around their apartment.

“Yura, I get food, yeah? Show Yuuri and his friend to seat, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Yurio grumbles, and Yuuri feels bad about already supplanting the boy’s actual name in his head with Phichit’s ridiculous suggestion.

The boy leads him and Phichit to the dining table, waving dismissively.

“Take whichever ones you want.” He tells them, before flopping down into one of the ones with cushioning. 

Yuuri glances at Phichit, shrugging, before taking the metal folding chair. He isn’t about to deprive Viktor of the only other comfortable looking seat. Phichit, luckily, seems to have the same idea, taking the wooden one.

Yurio eyes both of them critically, his expression seemingly unimpressed. Yuuri is starting to wonder if maybe him and Viktor are adopted siblings or something. From what little he’s seen of them, they couldn’t be more different.

“So… Y-Yuri? It’s funny that we have the same name, although from what I understand, yours is probably spelled with one U? I spell mine with two, so…”

Yurio rolls his eyes, looking away.

“Jeeze…” he mutters. “Are you always this boring?”

“Hey! That’s not very nice!” Phichit interjects. “I’ll have you know Yuuri is _always_ the life of any party. Believe me. Get a few drinks in him and he turns into a wild animal!”

“Phichit, come on…” Yuuri protests, his face heating.

Yurio looks back at him, that same, skeptical look on his face.

“Yeah, sure. Listen… Viktor seems pretty taken with you. What’s up with that? He said you helped him at his new job or whatever.”

“O-oh, that… that was just… I just helped him clean up a little mess, it… it wasn’t any big deal.”

“Yeah, well, Viktor acted like an angel had come down from fucking _heaven_ to save him, so…” Yurio’s eyes narrow. “I swear to God, if you fuck with him…”

“I-I’m sorry?” Yuuri stammers, startled.

Before the boy can say anything else, or Phichit can again, unfortunately, come to his defense, Viktor is suddenly at the table, carrying a big, clear plastic bowl filled with some kind of salad.

“Okay!” He announces, voice buoyant. “This is first part!”

He places the bowl in the center of the table. There’s a big wooden spoon stuck into the middle of the salad.

“I get drink! Yes?” Viktor goes on. “What is it everyone want? There is water, and juice. And… and… what is word… fizzy drink? Yura?”

“Soda.” Yurio supplies, already having taken up the bowl, starting to pile salad onto his plate.

“Da, soda!”

He looks at Yuuri and Phichit expectantly, and Yuuri feels his heart do a little somersault. God, he was just so _sweet_. How was someone this good looking also this nice?

“Uh, j-just water for me, thanks.”

Phichit nods, asking for the same.

“Yura?” Viktor asks.

“Can I have a soda?” He asks, and Viktor smiles wide at him.

“Da!”

//

Dinner is awesome. Viktor serves them a three course meal, each dish somehow tastier than the last, and both Yuuri and Phichit are amazed to know he cooked the entire thing himself. Between him and his roommate, Yuuri knows they couldn’t even manage to make a Pop-Tart without burning the house down. 

Viktor spends most of the meal asking Yuuri and Phichit questions about themselves, or talking about his brother and how amazing he is. Yuuri can see it’s causing the younger boy to flush slightly with embarrassment and annoyance, but Yuuri thinks its kind of cute. Viktor is so clearly proud of him.

Yuuri manages to get a few questions in himself, and he finds out that Viktor and his brother are here on visas, that they moved from St. Petersburg, Russia about three months ago. They have an uncle who lives in New York and coaches elite level figure skaters, which catches Yuuri’s interest big time, because he and Phichit both are on their school’s figure skating team. When Viktor learns this, he immediately suggests that they all go skating sometime, when the winter comes around.

Even more interesting to know is that Viktor had, back in Russia, been considered a skating prodigy, and had been, many thought, on his way to becoming a world class competitor. But then his and Yurio’s parents had been killed in a car crash, and Viktor had had to take over as his brother’s sole caretaker. 

Yuuri and Phichit had glanced at each other at that, and Yuuri thought his own expression must have been mirrored on his friend, his heart sunk and hurting for the two boys across the table from them. It was awful, to lose your parents at such a young age. Yuuri couldn’t even imagine what that would be like, or what he would have done, if he’d lost his own family like that.

Thank heavens, his own mother and father, and his sister Mari, were all alive and well, living back in Japan, running the family business. 

Yuuri had always been aware that he was lucky, to have been given the opportunities he had, able to go off to college in America on a scholarship. His family had never been wealthy, but they’d always made enough for him and his sister to live comfortably and not really want for anything. 

Talking to Viktor and his brother though only serves to remind him of his own privilege. Not everyone was so lucky.

Given all that, Yuuri finds Viktor’s optimism and positive attitude remarkable. His younger brother, he’s beginning to realize too, though surly on the outside, clearly cares deeply for his older sibling. 

Near the end of their meal, Viktor’s eyes suddenly light up, and he starts to try and ask Yuuri about his iPhone again, almost begging him to take it out and show it to Yurio.

“Oh, uh… o-okay.” Yuuri agrees, digging the phone out of his pant pocket.

He starts to hand it across the table to the younger boy, but hesitates when he sees the almost angry look on the kid’s face.

“I don’t care about that shit!” 

“Yura!” Viktor immediately starts, sounding horrified. His eyes are wide, looking back at his brother with naked shock.

“What?! I told you Vitya, I don’t want a fucking phone! Why won’t you listen?! We can’t fucking afford it anyway! Do you even know how much those things cost?! They’re, like, a thousand dollars Viktor! That doesn’t even include the fucking service plan! Stop pretending you’re going to get me one, because I don’t even want it!”

Yuuri sits, his own eyes wide, stunned frozen, his gaze shifting quickly back and forth between the two brothers, and then to Phichit, who himself looks frozen in uncertainty.

When Yuuri looks back to Viktor, there are tears in his eyes, and Yuuri feels his heart plummet. 

He’s looking back at his brother with open hurt, and Yurio seems to realize what he’s done in that same instant, the anger in his own expression melting away.

“Shit…” he mutters. “Vitya, I didn’t mean that… fuck… don’t cry, come on…”

And then suddenly he starts speaking in Russian, reaching out and grasping Viktor’s hand, squeezing it tight. The tears in Viktor’s eyes slip free, down his cheeks, and Yuuri looks away, feeling like he’s intruding on something he isn’t meant to see. He looks at Phichit, who looks back at him with the same emotion.

“Uh oh…” he mouths at Yuuri, and Yuuri doesn’t know what to say. 

The situation is awkward, and sad, and so out of nowhere, it seems like. Everything had been going so well.

Viktor says something back to his brother, his voice thick and quiet. They’re still speaking in Russian.

Another minute passes, the two of them continuing to speak back and forth, until finally, Phichit is the one to step in and say something.

“Should we…? I don’t know, go out, or? We don’t want to intrude.”

Viktor turns to look at them, his hand reaching up to wipe at his eyes as he shakes his head.

“No… uhh… sorry… I am sorry… I make fool of myself. Please stay. I only get too much like girl sometimes and cry…”

“You aren’t too much like a girl Vitya. I was being an asshole.” Yurio intervenes. “I’m the one who’s sorry. Look,” he turns to look back at Yuuri. “I’ll look at your phone, if… if you wanna let me see it still.” He holds his hand out.

Yuuri glances back at Viktor, and finds the other man looking back at him expectantly.

“Y-yeah, of course…” he stammers out, turning back and handing the phone to Yurio.

Things seem to smooth over after that, Viktor returning to his usual, smiling self.

Once it becomes clear they’re all finished eating, he starts to get up, reaching to gather everyone’s plates, but his brother stops him.

“I’ll do the dishes, Vitya.” He says. “You should relax. Yo, Katsuki, why don’t you help me.”

Viktor and Yuuri both blink at the younger boy.

“… Uhh, o-okay.” Yuuri stammers after a moment, pushing himself up from his seat.

“Great, come on.”

Viktor’s brother moves past him without another word, into the kitchen area.

Yuuri glances back at Viktor and Phichit for a moment, trying to convey his apologies. He really didn’t mean for things to get heated the way they did.

Phichit smiles at him.

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep your boyfriend occupied!”

Yuuri feels his face burn like it’s on fire.

“Peach!” He snaps without even meaning to, hands curling to fists in his mortification.

Phichit laughs, uncaring, and when Yuuri chances a glance at Viktor, it’s clear he doesn’t even understand what Yuuri’s bastard roommate had just said, which serves as only a mild relief to him.

He and Phichit were going to have words later.

Before he can say anything more, Phichit grabs Viktor’s attention by pulling out his own iPhone and beginning to show it to him, and Viktor’s attention is thoroughly captured, his eyes wide and bright as Phichit sweeps through the various apps.

“Oi! Katsuki!” 

He turns, seeing the younger boy standing at the sink, his face twisted into a scowl.

“You gonna help or what?”

“Y-yeah, sorry. I’m coming.”

He shuffles over, trying to ignore the delighted laughter he hears behind him, Viktor as excited and awed as a young child might be over the device.

“What should I…?” he starts.

“I’ll scrub and you dry the dishes I hand to you.” Yurio tells him impatiently, and Yuuri can only nod, catching a dish towel that the boy throws at his chest.

They didn’t even have a dishwasher? 

The two of them work in tandem for several minutes, only the sound of Yurio’s scrubbing and the plates clinking to overlap Viktor and Phichit’s excited chattering in the background.

“So listen…” Yurio finally starts, not taking his eyes from the pan he’s scrapping at with some steel wool. “I meant what I said. You better not fucking hurt Vitya, or I swear, I’ll hunt you down.”

Yuuri’s hands freeze around the dish he’d been drying, swallowing thickly.

“… I’m not going to hurt your brother.” He finally manages after a long, awkward moment. “I promise. Why do you think I will?”

The younger boy glances up at him a moment, before returning his attention to his task.

“Because people are assholes, that’s why.” He says. “And because Vitya is too damn nice for his own good. He’s like a little kid. He trusts like a little kid, and people are shitbags that like to take advantage of that kind of thing. Alright? So you better fucking _not_.”

Yuuri stands silently, confusion gripping his mind. He’d only just met Viktor yesterday, and truly, they barely knew one another. It wasn’t like they were going out or anything. Hell, Yuuri didn’t even know if Viktor was gay or not, so how could they…

“He really fucking likes you, okay?” Yurio’s agitated voice drags him from his thoughts. “I can tell he’s already got a huge fucking crush on you. So if you hurt him, I swear to God…”

“Viktor’s gay?” Yuuri blurts without meaning to.

Shit.

Yurio again looks to him, his eyes sharp and cutting.

“Yeah. He is. You got a problem with that or something?” 

“N-no! No, of course not! I mean… I am too. Er… well, I mean, I can like girls too, so I guess that technically makes me bisexual, but…”

He trails off, seeing the unimpressed look the boy is giving him, and his face heats red.

“… Yeah, well, whatever. The point is, my brother’s the fucking nicest person in the world, and he _likes_ you, for whatever stupid reason.” 

He pauses, going back to scrubbing the pan. Yuuri watches him for long seconds, seeing the boy’s brow furrow.

“… He’s been through a lot.” He finally starts again, his voice softer. “He’s had a lot of bad shit he’s had to deal with. I won’t let him get hurt any more. Alright? So if you two do end up dating or whatever, I’m telling you now, I’ll be watching you like a fucking hawk. Got it? If I think for even a second you’re hurting him in any way, I’ll make you pay. I’m not kidding around.”

Yuuri would almost think it funny, how this pint sized little kid who didn’t look like he could weigh more than 95 pounds soaking wet, was tossing around threats like candy on Halloween, except for the deadly serious tone in the boy’s voice, and the troubled, even pained expression he wore on his face. He meant it. Everything he was saying.

Yuuri wanted to ask what it was Viktor had been through, but he also knew it wasn’t his place to ask yet. That it would be Viktor’s story to tell, if he ever grew to trust Yuuri that much. So he doesn’t ask anything, only nods and says…

“I promise I won’t do anything to hurt him. I won’t even ask him out or anything. If he wants to… to go out with me, I’ll say yes, but I won’t push him or anything. Okay? You have my word.”

Again Yurio looks up at him, eyes narrowed, as if he’s trying to decern just how honest Yuuri is being. He must see Yuuri’s sincerity in the statement, because a moment later he nods.

“Good.” He says, and that’s all, before he’s back to scrubbing the pan.

He doesn’t say anything else to Yuuri after that, and Yuuri is happy to finish their work in silence.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! I've had this idea floating around in my head for a while. Let me know if you think I should continue, and thanks for reading!


End file.
